


I see you reaching for some other hand

by farfarawaygirl



Series: Give it Time [3]
Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: Dating other people, F/M, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, waiting for Matt to pull his head out of his ass, what if
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:42:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28600890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farfarawaygirl/pseuds/farfarawaygirl
Summary: To her credit she doesn’t cry, or laugh, or throw her coffee at him. Sylvie just nods, once, small and sharp. She takes a step backwards, feels her back hit the door, and turns to pull the handle, “then I guess we’re friends, and that’s it. Thanks.”This seismic shift in her heart doesn’t really change things on the surface. Sylvie doesn’t pull away from the house, doesn’t even really pull away from Casey, but she knows now where they stand. And it is clearly not together. So, she jokes with him in the common room, and watches his back on calls. Just likes she has for seven years.When her mom asks how she is doing, all Sylvie can think is, ‘give it time’.
Relationships: Sylvie Brett/Matthew Casey, Sylvie Brett/Other(s)
Series: Give it Time [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2090436
Comments: 72
Kudos: 136





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third ‘what if’ of my Give it Time series.

Thursday morning, when shift is about to start, Matt’s waiting for her on the apron. Sylvie knew he would be, because she knows him, because she loves him. Which is kind of the problem. The other part of the problem is that he doesn’t, can’t, feel the same way about her that she does about him. There is no use in pretending that that fact doesn’t sting a little. That this rejection doesn’t bring up a whole host of other similar rejections. 

Sylvie’s adopted, okay, she’s been to therapy, she’s read the books. The whole primal wound thing is always there just at the back of her mind. She knows there is some messy psychology there about Matt being the support system with Julie and now he’s the one, like, breaking her heart of whatever. Except this time she’s prepared. 

Last night, after they kissed and she asked him to leave Sylvie called her mom first, then Emily, and lastly Olivia. She explained the situation, her feelings and what happened. They made a game plan. Each person speaking to her in a different way. 

Matt may be waiting for her on the apron, but she knows he is not expecting her to smile at him as she enters and act like nothing happened. Because, nothing did happen. She’s still in the same place she was, helplessly pinning over a guy who belongs to someone else. Now she just has more information. Confirmation. 

“Hey, Casey.” Sylvie waves, says hello to Severide and Capp at the Squad table and makes for the locker room. She can do this. 

Twenty minutes later she’s sitting in the briefing room, coffee in hand listening to Boden. It barely even registers that Matt is standing behind her and a little to the left. She doesn’t even care. 

Fate, or timing is on her side, because they don’t even spend more than a half an hour together in the house the entire shift. It’s call after call, Mackey still learning the ropes and Sylvie focussing in on that. On teaching. On leading. On being strong. 

“Sylvie!” Kidd calls from her locker, the bench and half the house between them, “you coming to Molly’s tonight?”

Matt turns and looks at her. 

Sylvie glances down, then looks back at Stella. “Can’t. I’ve got other plans.”

“Hot date?” Gallo asks, before immediately colouring, and trying to back track. “I mean, what are you doing?”

“I’m teaching a spin class for Olivia.”

Matt’s trying to catch her eye, “what about before then, lunch?”

“Sorry,” Sylvie closes her locker, not sorry at all, “I have to make a playlist and a plan.” She pulls her bag over her shoulder. “See you guys next shift.”

Like she said. She can do this. 

-

Stella texts her a few times on their days off, checking in, and Sylvie readily answers. She’s not going to drag Stella into the middle of this, and clearly Matt is not telling her. Whatever. It’s probably better the less people that know. She already has to live with the memory of that kiss, she doesn’t want anyone knowing that she does. Sylvie spends her time knitting a jumper for her dad for Christmas, teaching three spin classes for Olivia and tying not to think about kissing Matt Casey on her couch. 

Would it be overkill to get a new couch? 

-

The avoidance ends, not because it’s too hard to do, but because Sylvie refuses to be cowed by this. So, when Matt finally comes to her, and says he wants to talk, Sylvie picks up her coffee mug and follows him out the back door of the kitchen. He’s nervous, bouncing a hand off his thigh, lips pursed. 

“I’m not sorry that we kissed, just about what happened after.”

“What part?” This seems to catch Matt off guard. 

“What?”

Sylvie squeezes the mug in her hands, “what part are you sorry about, then?”

“That this impacted our friendship.”

Oh. 

Oh. 

“Then, let’s just forget it. Let’s go back to being friends.” Sylvie forces a smile.

“Is that what you want?”

Sylvie thinks about all the ways she has told Matt what she wants, in word and action, and never once really has he said anything similar back. She has been brave, put herself on the line, put her heart out there, and all she’s really got back is an ‘I don’t know’. For him to ask her now, what she wants feels a little, well, it feels like she has her answer. 

“I think,” Sylvie says, “that it’s all you can offer me at the moment.”

Matt folds his arms across his chest. 

“I know what I want Matt. I want a partner, and a real relationship with communication and respect. I want the whole house, and a yard, and a dog and a family. I want those things, and I’d like it to be with you.”

He makes a choked noise. 

“Sylvie...” and then he’s just silent, just looking at her. 

“What do you want Matt?”

The coffee mug has lost some of its heat, as she holds it, and the steam is growing smaller. That is how Sylvie feels. Like she did what she could. Said what she wanted and she’s still growing colder and smaller. 

“I don’t know.”

To her credit she doesn’t cry, or laugh, or throw her coffee at him. Sylvie just nods, once, small and sharp. She takes a step backwards, feels her back hit the door, and turns to pull the handle, “then I guess we’re friends, and that’s it. Thanks.”

This seismic shift in her heart doesn’t really change things on the surface. Sylvie doesn’t pull away from the house, doesn’t even really pull away from Casey, but she knows now where they stand. And it is clearly not together. So, she jokes with him in the common room, and watches his back on calls. Just likes she has for seven years. 

When her mom asks how she is going, all Sylvie can think is, ‘give it time’.

-

Sylvie and Mackay are called to a scene minutes into their next shift, before briefing can start, just them, not the rest of the house. They’re assisting Truck 37 from House 15; when they pull up, Sylvie sends Mackay over to asses a man sitting on the curb and heads over to the closest car.

“What do we have?” She pulls even with the firefighter working at the passenger side door, he turns and for a moment Sylvie just thinks of how green his eyes are. Proper green. 

He is using a pry bar to try and widen the gap between the frame and the twisted door. “Kid in the back,” he says, Sylvie thinks he sounds frustrated, “they’re using the jaws over there, and this kid is freaking out.”

The kid is in fact freaking out, they’re yelling, and pushing at the seatbelt. Sylvie spares the guy beside her a glance, even without his turnouts on he’d be too big to squeeze back there. She looks at the driver side, the door is shut, but they pulled the driver out the window. She has half a plan and says, “get me in the car, I can get back there.”

Green eyes looks at her. His brow is furrowed, but then the kid screams again, and they’re rounding the car, him boosting her inside. 

Sylvie pulls herself over the wreckage of seats, smells coffee in the air, mixed with the familiar chemicals they pour at sites to stop the spill spreading. “Hey, I’m Sylvie. I’m here to help. Can you tell me if you’re hurt?”

The little boy, about eight is still pulling at his locked seatbelt. “I want my mom!”

It takes a good five minutes, but Sylvie untangles the boy, straps on a C Collar and passes him out the widow to a waiting paramedic. It’s the guy with green eyes who helps pull her back through the wreck. He holds on to her for a few steps, and lets be down on a patch of weedy grass. 

“Good work.” His smile is inhumanly bright. “I’m Luke. Lieutenant over at 15.”

“Sylvie.”

He quirks a corner of his mouth upwards, “I’ve heard of you.”

Mackey calls her name, and Brett sends him one last smile before she moves towards her partner. 

-

Sylvie gets delayed on a call, so she ends up leaving the house a full hour after the rest of the shift. Mackey didn’t have the paperwork requirements that Sylvie did, so she’s solo leaving out the side door, waving to Danvers from first shift, when she sees him. Luke. 

He’s jogging up the apron, dressed in his civvies, when he sees Sylvie he just, like, grins. It should not be as attractive as it is, but as soon as sees him grinning, Sylvie feels a little ridiculous at the flash of heat on her cheeks. 

“I didn’t think I’d catch you.”

Spinning in a lazy circle, Sylvie replies, “if I hadn’t caught a third degree burn right before shift end, you would have missed me.”

“Wanna go and drink coffee six feet apart on a park bench? I’ll spring for a pastry, but we will probably still freeze our asses off anyway.”

Sylvie gives him a look. 

“Come on, Sylvie. It’s just coffee.”

-

Third shift is working over New Year. It’s not the first time Sylvie has had to work on a holiday, and it won’t be the last. This year isn’t even really so bad, Covid has cancelled many of the things that make this particular holiday fun. Last year Herrmann had closed Molly’s for a private event, he had sold tickets to friends only, catered the event and Sylvie had spent the night dancing with Emily, Stella and Cindy. It had been fun. Matt had driven her home, and kissed her cheek at the door, blushing as he wished her a happy new year. 

It’s almost midnight, some of the boys are out in the cold smoking cigars with Boden; Kidd and Sylvie are drinking sparkling apple juice by the radio tower when Truck 37 rolls in. Stella shoots her a look, Sylvie shrugs, but heads out onto the driveway. Luke, still in his full turn out gear, jumps down from the front passenger seat. 

They’re not dating. They’re not not dating. It is nice and new and fragile. When he had asked her out, Sylvie had decided that honesty was the best policy. She hadn’t mentioned any names, she had said that she still had feelings for someone else, but that she wanted to move on. Sylvie remembers saying, “I’m not convinced I should be dating at the moment.”

“Let me convince you.” Luke had replied, his greens eyes bright and mischievous. It had made her laugh. It had made her agree to go out with him. 

“What are you doing here?” Sylvie calls, walking past the guys with their cigars.

Luke turns his ball cap backwards, and walks towards her. “It’s almost midnight.”

Sylvie waves at Stephens, Gillman and Montez, who are all leaning out of the truck, smiling down at her. Anna Gillman is shaking her head a little, but still looks amused. 

“You guys just got off a call?”

“House fire!” Stephens calls, “someone lit a sparkler in the garage, and lit up an old dusty calendar.”

Luke stops in front of Sylvie, he has an endearing smudge of ash going from one ear to his chin. Sylvie reaches out with her hand and wipes at it, working the skin under her fingers. “You’re a mess.”

Montez has jumped from the back of the Truck, and is taking a box of doughnuts from Gillman, “So, we stopped and grabbed some treats. Enough to share.”

This makes Sylvie smile. “A happy accident.”

Luke nods, holds onto her wrist, where her hand is on his face. “I wanted to start the new year off with your smile. Read somewhere that how you ring in the New Years sets the whole tone for the year ahead.”

Behind them someone is counting down, Sylvie can hear the neighbours on the patio shouting out into the night. She likes that he showed up, likes that he has a reason. 

“You going to kiss me?”

Her question makes Luke’s eyebrow rise up, he grins at her and steps closer, hands on her hips. “We’re at your work, I was just planning on looking at you like some lovesick fool.”

The countdown reaches 3, and Sylvie makes up her mind, she tugs him down a little, puts her arms around his shoulders and whispers, “You can kiss me if you want.”

When the clock strikes midnight, Luke is kissing her. It’s a really good kiss. He bends his knees a little and scoops her up, arms tight around her waist; Sylvie laughs into his mouth, hold on tightly to his neck. She hears his guys, and her house hollering at them, but she doesn’t really care. She’s seen most of them do a lot worse on the job, and it’s New Years. When her feet hit the ground agains Sylvie stands on tip toe to kiss him a bit more. 

“I hate to kiss and run, but I have a whole report to fill out…” Luke is saying, his hands on her face, warm in defiance of the chilly Chicago winters night. 

“Beat it!” Sylvie laughs, swatting at him, as she pulls away, “you are picking me up in like eight hours for breakfast anyways.” He shakes his head fondly at her and pulls himself into the rig, arm hanging out the window watching her as Montez drives them away.

She stands there and watches him roll away, until they’re gone from sight, until she really should head inside because of the cold. Sylvie has her hand on her lips when she turns around, Matt’s leaning against the brick of the firehouse, watching her. It’s just them in the starlight. Sylvie wouldn’t say she feels guilty, per se, but her face flushes and she wishes that he wasn’t there looking at her. 

Squaring her shoulders she walks towards the house, and by extension him. If she’s being honest, she misses him. But, he’s not really hers to miss. Sometimes when she looks at him, Sylvie just feels so old. Drained. Tired and worn out. 

“Hey.” His voice is softer than usual. “Happy New Year, Sylvie.”

“You too, Casey.” They are barely three feet apart, but it might as well be a football field. A lot can change in five weeks. “Not really how I thought 2020 would turn out, but here we are.”

Matt makes a noise of agreement, his head tilted to the side. “Yeah. Not the best year.”

Sylvie remembers crying in his bunk room, him brushing her hair away from her eyes. The whole year seems to flash before her, Julie, Amelia, Cruz’s wedding, Foster leaving, Covid, Moving, the accident. Everything. And always there, just to help or support or show care, was Matt. “Thank you, for everything you did this past year. Thank you for being a really great friend.”

He’s stopped leaning against the building, Matt is leaning down towards her now, hands in his pocket. “It was what anyone would do.”

She thinks he might mean that, honestly that stings just a little. She had thought that it meant something different. 

“Right.” Sylvie agrees, blinking hard. “Message received.” With a final nod she heads for the door, the good mood from Luke’s visit distant in her head.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m still believing in these fools.

Waiting on the rooftop with cigars and old whiskey, Casey thinks about all the things this friendship has weathered. It’s a lot. Darden, and Shay. Peter Mills. They both struggled to be leaders, and helped each out when everything was going to shit. They’ve lived together a few times. Fixed cars and repaired houses together. 

They’ve talked about the big, bad, scary things. Their dads. Losing Hallie. Losing Anna. Their failed marriages, Brittany and Gabby. A lot of the things that make up a life. 

“You ready to talk?” Severide asks, leaning against the wall on the roof, lighting his cigar. 

Matt looks at him sideways. 

“Any idiot can see it has to do with Brett.”

Exhaling, Matt still avoids answering. 

“It’s been off since about Thanksgiving?” Severide has a hint of a question in his voice, “that’s when Stella and I noticed something wasn’t the same.” Severide is giving him a look, narrowing his eyes, trying to read Matt’s face. 

“Since the Ambo crash.”

Severide nods at Matt, sipping from his whiskey glass. “What happened?”

“Do you think I know what I want?”

There’s an unfamiliar look on Severide’s face. “What do you mean, Casey?”

“Do you think I know what I want?”

Severide nods. “Yeah. I think you do.”

“Then why can’t I just say it?” Matt looks out over the city, away from his friend. 

“I want Stella.” At Severide’s words, Matt looks over at his friend, Kelly keeps talking, facing the city. “I knew I wanted her for a long time before I made myself do something about it. I thought that I couldn’t be the man she needed.”

In the distance a siren blares, the cities moves on without them. 

“She asked me point blank what I wanted, and I couldn’t answer her.” Matt let’s out a puff of smoke. 

Beside him Severide shifts a little, “do you want her?”

Matt thinks of Sylvie. 

He thinks of her kindness first. Then her smile. That blonde hair. One of his first memories of her is her handling herself on a scene, calm and collected. 

Sylvie is a lot of things, compassionate, caring, stubborn when she needs to be, brave, quick in a crisis. She wears her heart on her sleeve, her emotions on her face. He wants her to be happy. But, what if he can’t live up to it? 

What if he can’t be what she needs? 

He’s never enough before. 

“I don’t think I’m the guy for her.”

“Bullshit,” Severide snorts, “the two of you are some sort of dream team. PIC and Captain, ready to take on and save the world. Both self sacrificing assholes.”

Casey flips him off. 

“C’mon Case, if you want her, put in the work.”

-

Casey does. The very next day he makes an appointment with the CFD chaplain, thankfully not one of Sylvie’s exes. He thinks long and hard about Sylvie said, about the things she wants, and how he needs to know what he wants. 

He wants her. 

He wants a home. 

He wants a family. 

Now he just has to make sure Sylvie knows. 

When shift starts for then on Friday he’s ready on the apron with her favourite coffee and pastry from that little cafe she likes by Molly’s. He purposefully ignores the questioning look Boden sends him, but shrugs unabashedly at Severide and Kidd. Sylvie arrives five minutes before shift change, she’s already dressed for the day in her uniform, and wearing an impossibly puffy blue coat. 

“Casey?”

He misses her calling him Matt. 

“Sylvie.” He is momentarily struck dumb, just sort of follows her into the house. 

“What were you doing outside? It’s freezing! You don’t even have a real coat!” 

Matt clears his throat. “I was waiting for you.”

She stills, bag still on her shoulder, one hand on the lock. “Why?”

“I got you coffee.” He presses it towards her, abrupt and awkward. Belatedly he remembers the pastry, and takes the bag from his pocket. “One of those blackberry scones too.”

Sylvie takes the pastry bag, looks up at him, and smiles. “Thank you?” Finally, Sylvie gets the locker open, shoved in her bag, while juggling the coffee and scone. “Is there a reason?”

“I’m thinking about what I want.”

Matt registers that Sylvie is a little uncomfortable, she rubs her lips together, looks down and away. It’s been eight weeks since they kissed, just a little less since they talked and he let her down. 

“Oh.”

She’s not going to ask. 

“I was hoping we could get breakfast.” She looks up, Matt continues. “Tomorrow after shift.”

“No eat in restaurants right now.” She reminds him. 

“I’ll cook.”

He doesn’t know what she’s thinking. Her watch beeps, Sylvie looks at her wrist, grimaces and looks back up. 

“I don’t know Casey.”

“Please, Sylvie.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

Matt sends her his biggest smile. “Thank you.”

-

Things don’t exactly go to plan. 

When Matt leaves the house, a full two hours after shift was supposed to end, he’s bone tired. His ears are still ringing a bit, his whole back is on fire, and his left elbow is killing him. But when he makes it to his truck, he sees Sylvie. She is leaning against the passenger side door, her head tipped up into the sunlight, her eyes closed. 

She stayed. 

Matt says her name, makes his way straight to her. Sylvie straightens up, opens her eyes, adjust her stance. She puts her right out in front of her, and places her palm across the middle of his chest. Momentarily, Matt is confused, or annoyed, he just wanted to be near her, and why did she stay if she didn’t want to be near him?

The answer is found a half second later, when Matt feels her fingers slide between the buttoned front of shirt. She’s trying to feel his heartbeat. Sylvie’s not really meeting his gaze, her eyes focussed on her hand. 

“I’m okay.”

In response Sylvie sighs. “You’re always running into burning building, jumping into elevator shafts...”, she pauses, looking up at him, “launching yourself from moving trucks.”

“Just the once.”

Her fingers are still on his chest, Matt feels her thumb press against his button. She’s beautiful, even when she’s tired and scared and maybe a little pissed off. Today was rough one. The call had come in just after four am, structure fire, it had been fully engulfed by the time they arrived. Two kids trapped upstairs. Getting them out had been a nightmare. 

Sylvie had been near tears as she pulled him to the rig, checking his airway and tugging at his turn out coat to check the bruising on his back. Without thought, Matt brings his hand to the curve where her neck meets her shoulder. He wants to kiss her. Wants to burrow into her neck and stay there, but he can’t. Not yet. He’s working on the trying, and the showing thing now. 

“We still on for breakfast?” Patiently, Matt asks watching her eyes. Sylvie’s afraid. He hopes it’s not of him, but he knows he plays into it. He didn’t give her the answers she needed, and now, now he runs the risk of losing her altogether. “Please.”

Her smile is smaller than the one he loves, “what are friends for?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't altogether know where I'm going with this one. 
> 
> I have approx, 6 WIP's...

Kidd makes a big deal out Severide’s birthday, takes the night off from Molly’s, invites the allowed number of people (currently eight) over for a party at the loft. Sylvie wouldn’t have wanted to come, but lately Kelly has made a point of establishing their friendship apart from Stella and Matt. Which is kind of weird, but she is going with it, in an effort to not draw attention to her and Matt. Sylvie makes the cake, because she’s a better baker than Stella, and her and Luke show up at 9:30 as planned. 

Stella opens the door with a fake smile on her lips. “Sylvie! And Luke!” She says too loudly, eyes wider than normal. 

“How was dinner?” Luke asks, because he has manners, and Stella and Severide were going to that fancy steak house before dessert. 

Stella just laughs. An unsettled laugh, still looking right at Sylvie. “It was fine.”

Cruz comes up behind them in the hallway, “ladies, Luke,” he nods, “Chloe is a little under the weather, so we will be down a person.” 

They all look at Stella, who is still standing in the doorway. She looks back. Sylvie narrows her eyes. “Right!” Stella barks, “come in!”

Stella has laid out some drinks, and some paper plates on the island, Sylvie has been here enough times to know to just do her own thing. She puts her cake down, peels off her jacket, Luke takes it from her, lays both of their jackets on the workout bench. Sylvie is pulling out a knife when she hears it. 

Oh. 

It’s coming from the hallway leading to Matt’s room. 

Oh. 

Apparently her heart does still feel like one giant bruise, because the familiar laugh is like a fist squeezing it. Painful. Unwanted. A dull ache. 

“Is that Dawson?” Cruz’s voice shocks her back to the present. 

When she looks up from her cake, Severide and Stella are looking at her with twin looks of disappointment, so Sylvie turns to her left and looks up at Luke instead. He must think her friends are so weird. Obviously, he’s right, she just didn’t think he’d find out so soon. 

Luke must sense something is off with her, because he leans down just a little and kisses the crown of her head. Sylvie relaxes into him. 

“Hey, guys!” She was right. It is Gabby, coming from the hallway, the hallway that leads to Matt’s room. 

There is several minutes of wild confusion, as introductions are made, hugs are shared, and Sylvie ends up briefly in everyone’s arms. Even for one torturous moment tucked under Matt’s chin, as everyone shuffles around and says hello. Then she’s back with Luke, leaning against him at the island, safe in his steady, uncomplicated arms. 

“Luke,” Gabby grins, “what do you do?”

“I’m a lieutenant, over at 15, I’m with the CFD too. How about you?”

It’s Cruz who answers Luke’s question, “Gabby is a relief worker. But she used to be at our house.” Sylvie zones out, picks up her knife to cut the cake, “her and Matt are married.”

“Were married.” Matt interrupts Joe. “We’re divorced now. Gabby’s back on furlough from overseas. Just finishes quarantining and showed up here, unannounced.”

Sylvie glances up and sees Matt’s eyes on her. She looks away. 

Stella laughs that strangled, nervous laugh again, “okay!” She claps her hands, “we want cake, yeah, cake?”

Cutting a generous first slice, Sylvie plates it, and holds her hand out to Luke. He produces a blue birthday candle and a book of matches, helping her light it up. Holding it out to Severide, Sylvie shrugs, “Covid, but make it birthday.” It is gratifying the way his eyes crinkle in thanks as he blows it out. 

Stella had made coffee before they arrived, so she pour mugs while Sylvie serves up cake, Sylvie shakes her head at Severide when he squeezes between them, hands on their shoulders. “My girls.” 

“Fuck off,” Stella laughs. She’s smiling and happy, and just for a moment Sylvie feels her heart constrict. She wants that. That kind of familiarity. That comfort. It feels like a weight on her skin, Matt’s gaze across the room. Sylvie sends him a half smile, before she finds Luke. 

Luke is talking with Cruz, talking about a recent call, both of them laughing about the situation. He could fit, here, in her life, Sylvie muses. With her people. It’s different dating a fireman at an other house; but it’s nice too. The separation. 

“Babe!” Luke calls, “you didn’t tell Cruz about your assist?”

Sylvie groans, sitting on the arm of Luke’s chair. “Hardly an assist.” His arm settles around her waist, warm and welcome. 

“She talked this guy down, when he was losing it after a car accident. She pulled herself on top of the hood, and calmed him down while Mackey stabilized him.”

“Giana told me about this!” Cruz agrees, leaning back with his coffee, “she thinks the world stops and starts with Sylvie.”

It’s Matt’s voice that cuts through the action and sound, “it does.” He holds her gaze, across the room, across the people in it, and it doesn’t hurt that way it has every day for the last two months and change. Looking at him is like looking at a sunset. A sure thing. Steady. 

“She’s a good partner.” Sylvie says, and the spell is broken, she can look away. 

Gabby starts a story about something to do with Puerto Rico, Sylvie spends it thinking about the hand on her back, and the man sitting across the room watching her. It’s still his choice. Still him who has to act. She’s trying to move on, a moment with Matt doesn’t mean he’s not still in love with Gabby, it just means she didn’t imagine this whole past year. 

That doesn’t necessarily make her feel better. 

Stella is loading the dishwasher when Sylvie joins her in the kitchen, it’s open and everyone is right there, so she doesn’t have the space to say what she wants to her best friend, but Stella gets it. Her hands is warm, still wet and soapy from the sink when she wraps it around Sylvie’s wrist. It’s comforting, but Sylvie still feels a bubble of hysteria growing within her, like she could cry. Or laugh. 

“Casey is an idiot.” Severide’s voice is low, but it makes them both jump, and suddenly the urge to cry is slightly less. Instead Sylvie lets Kelly wraps his arms around them both, shrieks with laughter when he pinches at their sides, and ends her moment of hysteria clutching Stella in the kitchen, tears of mirth falling down her face. When they turn back around, the whole party is watching them, Casey, Cruz, Luke, and Gabby, all wearing varying expressions of amusement. 

If there is a moment that reminds her how much this whole thing is not in her control, it’s right when she’s leaving. She has her jacket on, scarf and mittens secured, hand in hand with Luke in the doorway when Cruz asks Gabby if she needs a ride. Sylvie finds she doesn’t really want to know the answer right then, and uses the conversation to pull Luke in the hall and escape. And if she sees Cruz exit solo moments later when her and Luke wait for his car to warm up, she does her best to remember that she is the interloper here. 

-

This thing with Luke is - well, Sylvie doesn’t know the word for what it is, she finds herself thinking that it is not painful? She wouldn’t call it easy, because that feels like a cop out. She has made it clear that she is very much not in a place where she can commit. And Luke has made the very valid point that they can’t just be dating around because of Covid, so they might as well just date each other. 

He is not in a hurry to label it. Not in a hurry to hurry it along. Sylvie enjoys spending time with him, enjoys kissing him, but that is all that’s has happened. Which feels a little weird. Not bad weird. Just, weird. But it had been him who had brought it up, a little bashfully, he’d just said that he knows what he likes and what he likes is sex in a committed relationship. He’d assured her that he wasn’t pressuring her, he’s cool with whatever, because, and here she is quoting, “you’re getting over someone, and I only really want to sleep with people who are, like, into only me.”

It’s kind of hot. It reminds her of high school sometimes, when making out was such a thing. Like, as she has gotten older it has become more and more rare to just spend half a day making out where sex is not the endgame. Even when Matt and her had, kissed or whatever, it had very clearly been leading to sex. But Luke likes to lay her out on the couch and really work her up before announcing he has to be somewhere. 

That’s what is happening the morning after Severide’s birthday party, Luke came to her apartment for breakfast, and then they’re on the couch. 

“Sylvie,” Luke is running his hand up her spin, making her head feel fuzzy. “I have to go. I’ve got a car I’m working on.”

She makes a noise of protest into his neck, holding onto his shoulders as he rises up. This is a little unlike her, the physicality without the defined relationship, but Sylvie thinks she’s chasing this high because she just can’t wait. Luke is a viable candidate. She thinks she could see a future with him. 

There is no complicated history there. 

“Okay, text me if you want to get lunch after shift.”

Luke swoops down and kisses her swiftly, dancing away and pulling on his jacket before she knows what is happening. “I think we should order deep dish and watch that show on Prime.”

After he leaves she straightens the kitchen, runs the dishwasher and heads to her spin class. She likes teaching for Olivia. It’s something different, and Sylvie feels real pride when she sees her students make progress. Two blocks from the studio, Sylvie hears someone call her name across the street. 

It’s Gabby, a bag of takeaway from that soup and sandwich shop she likes, and two steps behind her, head down, Matt. It feels... sharp. 

Sylvie crosses the street, adjusting her green mask, for the first time grateful for the covering. “Hey!” She makes sure the emotion in her voice is steady when she speaks. “What are you guys doing?”

“Matt taking me to the storage locker, I’m going to shift through some of the undamaged stuff from his fire and see if I want anything.”

When Gabby talks, Sylvie cuts her gaze over to Matt, he’s still looking down. It hits her all at once, Gabby doesn’t understand how hard this is for him. Not really. Not in the way that the people who were here when it happened do. Compassion builds in her chest, before she can second guess Sylvie reaches out at touches his jacketed elbow. 

This might the first time she has reached for him since that night. Matt presses into her hand. Belatedly Sylvie realizes Gabby is still talking. 

“Sorry, pardon?”

“I said,” Gabby laughs, eyes flitting to Matt, “that Luke is nice.”

Slowly Sylvie retracts her hand, “Yeah, he is very nice.”

“How long have you two been together?”

Clearing her throat, Sylvie thinks how to answer this. “We’re not together, together. It’s complicated. But, I didn’t feel like waiting around for someone else.” She feels the intensity of Matt’s gaze. “He knows. I was honest, I’m a little bit of a mess, but he doesn’t mind.”

“You’re Sylvie Brett, who wouldn’t fall in love with you?” At Gabby’s words Sylvie sends Matt a look, seriously she has never been more glad for face masks. Over his own mask, part of a four pack she remembers sharing with him, Matt is giving her a look that she can’t decipher. 

Shrugging, Sylvie says, “some people are impervious to my charms.” An alarm on her phone goes off, “sorry, I have to go, I’m teaching.”

At the last second, Matt’s hand finds her elbow and squeezes, but she’s already darting across the street. 

-

Talk of Gabby fills the locker room when Sylvie drops off her bag before next shift. Herrmann is sharing a story of Gabby commandeering a truck at a HazMat site, Gallo and Ritter lapping it up. It is strange some days to think about how different Chicago, how different 51, felt to Sylvie in those days. She had been running from something in those early Chicago days. Lately it feels more like Sylvie is running towards something. 

Towards a future. 

God, she was so young then. 

She’s old enough to not hold a grudge now. It’s not Matt’s fault that he gave his heart away and never got it back. When she sees him getting a cup of coffee before morning briefing, Sylvie sends him a genuine smile. 

The tightness in her chest that she felt for months now when she looks at him, is less. Not gone. But not crushing. 

“You doing okay?”

Matt considers her, considers the question, his head tilted softly. “I am now.”

They are miraculously alone, and Sylvie has something to say. 

“I’m really sorry for the last year. For putting you in that situation. I feel,” Sylvie stops, starts again. “You are so important to me. That’s not conditional on how you feel or what we are.”

He has really sincere eyes. When he says her name, it hardly even registers as pain, in fact, it just makes Sylvie happy. Happy that he doesn’t sound pained. It doesn’t matter what he and Gabby are, because Sylvie will always have his friendship. It is just as true now, as when she said it Emily more than a year ago, ‘seeing him happy, makes her happy’.

It’s the first time that Sylvie has been able to see a future with Matt in it since they kissed. Not as the romantic lead, perhaps, but as someone who is genuine, and gentle, and good. Someone who cares for her differently than she might have wanted, but still cares for her. 

Irrationally she feels a tear slip down her cheek, Matt brushes it away before she can, that familiar look on his face. 

The bells go off. 

Sylvie sends Matt a smile, and heads for the Ambo. She’s hauling herself into the passenger side, checking the mirror when she sees that Matt is watching her as he shrugs on his jacket. Mackey pulls out, following Squad 3 to the accident site. 

-

It is a shit show. 

They’re waiting on a Commanding Paramedic, but as the first one on scene, Sylvie is in command until she is relieved of duty. She has Mackey, obviously, but there are three other rigs she’s giving instruction to. It’s a massive accident, she’s triaging and shouting commands to her guys, the three trucks from her house, and two more when she feels the first tremor beneath her on the bridge. It’s a commercial load bridge that she drives over at least a few time every day, but there is a semi that is half over the rails, she sees that it is straining against the long metal cables. 

Sylvie just didn’t think it was structural, no one did. 

Boden’s voice filters over the radio. “Get off the Bridge. Pull back.”

Obviously that is the plan, but as she’s giving her own orders, Sylvie feels it again. The tremor. Ahead of her she see Mackey and Gallo rolling the guy she just tagged to safety, and then the ground kind of just disappears beneath her feet. 

Sylvie has never really been a fan of the free fall. When she was really little her brother convinced her to do a free fall at the fall fair, she’d puked, and sworn off rides for years. It’s like that, but much, much worse. There’s so much noise. Dust. Debris. Distantly Sylvie is aware that the semi tips over and into the water. She feels the spray reach up an splatter against her, then she is struggling to hold onto something. 

Her hand catches on a piece of railing, Sylvie collides with the slanted piece of bridge roadway fiercely. It knocks the air right out of her, but she holds tight to that swaying metal rail. When the dust settles enough for her to see clearly, Sylvie notes that it is roughly twelve feet of bridging that has cracked, tilting downward at extreme angles. The distance between two struts. The semi is underwater, a Kia Soul sinking rapidly. 

This is a new one. 

Her radio is crackling in her ear, but there is no way Sylvie is letting go of the railing to answer it. She struggling to hold on as it is. 

Someone is shouting her name. 

“I’m here!” 

Above her she sees Gallo’s head lean over the break in the bridge. He yells her name, tells her to breathe, and is shouting for someone to bring some rope. She hears the call get picked up down the line. 

“Sylvie!” That’s Matt’s voice in her ear, her radio caught between her shoulder and neck. “Sylvie! Can you answer me?”

She calls out, “I’m here.”

Beside Gallo, Herrmann’s and Casey’s heads appear, seeing her team fills Sylvie with the knowledge that she will be okay. 

“Sylvie! Hold on! We’re going to get you.” Herrmann disappears, but Casey stays above her, there is a look on his face she recognizes. Her hand slips on the rail, Sylvie shouts, scrambling for purchase with her feet. Above her Matt calls her name, and then she hears Severide and Kidd, Cruz and Capp calling out orders. 

Using the last of her strength, Sylvie hooks a knee over the railing, pulls hard and adjusts her grip. She’s not exactly steady, but she’s able to manage from here. If she turns her head a little to the left she can see the river below her, bloated and rolling. It wouldn’t be a good outcome if she fell in. Even as she focusses on holding on, Sylvie is aware of the action happening above her.

It’s been maybe ninety seconds since the bridge gave way, and already she knows they’re working on a plan. She’s not surprised when she see Matt come over the lip of the bridge, harness on, ropes attached. He’s got a rescuing thing, and she’s in trouble. 

“Sylvie!” His voice is frantic, it physical pains her to hear it. “Sylvie, I’m coming!”

The rope catches on something, pulls short, Matt kicks out a booted foot to right himself and inadvertently jostles the railing Sylvie had been clinging to. With a creaking sound, it shifts; Sylvie is screaming, Matt yelling her name, above them others are shouting. The whole world shifts, Sylvie sees nothing but the blue grey sky above her, then she’s jerked up. 

Groaning, Matt has swung wildly to the left, right hand on the rope, the left caught under her shoulder. It hurts. 

“Come on Sylvie, sweetheart I need you to try. Please!” That frantic edge to Matt’s voice is worse now, Sylvie whimpers out his name. Scrambling up rubble, shoulder burning, hands scraped she manages to grab a hold of his harness. 

It’s a messy jumble of limbs and exertion, but together they manage to get Sylvie far enough up that Matt can haul her into his arms. She’s watched countless rescues like this before, the inelegant press of bodies as they strive to save people. Each contact point with Matt is electric. 

The rope is digging into her thighs, but is the tightness of his grip on her ribs that surprises her. 

“Jesus.” Matt is breathing into her neck. “I’ve never been more terrified.”

“Casey! Let’s pull her up!”

Arms are reaching to pull her over the edge, Cruz and Severide hauling her roughly, passing her on as the reach for Matt. Kidd is hugging her, then Mackey, she feels Mouch pat her back before she is crushed up in Casey’s arms again. Right there, in front of everyone. It’s almost painful the intensity of his arms, the wildness of his need to hold her. 

But just before relaxation hits, Sylvie is pried from his arms. 

Luke. 

He’s also in his turn outs, his gloved hands tight on her hips. “Sylvie.” He breathes. It’s delicate and relieved. “I didn’t know it was you.”

Her protests about her being okay die on her lips under the intensity of his gaze. Oh. She thinks she knows that look. Before either of them have a chance to ask, or explain, Boden is calling out actions and they have to finish the job they came here for. 

The way he says “Later?” makes her cheeks flush, Sylvie nods and heads over to her rig, checking out the situation. She feels Matt’s gaze on her across the distance, but she doesn’t know what it means. 

-

Sylvie’s not really one to shower at the house after shift, she prefers her luffah and the towels at home, but after the bridge collapse and a particularly messy call with someone who had food poisoning she’s decided to shower here. Boden had even taken the ambo out of service for the last half hour of her shift. Towel wrapped around her body, Sylvie is trying to peek at her back in the mirror by the showers when Matt walks in. 

He clearly wasn’t looking for, or expecting her, he has a stack of towels in hand, and must have just grabbed them from the dryer because Sylvie can smell the generic fabric soften they use. Matt sends her a smile, and then realizes she is just in a towel. He stops. Swallows. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Sylvie flushes. “I’m trying to see how bad the bruise is on my back.”

Matt places the towels down on a shelf and steps towards her gingerly. He waits for her nod, Sylvie half turns away from him, her back to him, the towel loose on her skin. What happens next is probably the most erotic moment of Sylvie’s life. Which, considering it’s a sexless moment kind of throws her for a loop. Matt runs his fingers from the edge of her shoulders to her spine, Sylvie feels the ridges and callouses in his skin, when he meets her spine he flattens his palm against her. 

There is a moment of fleeting pain as he finds a bruise, but then Matt’s fingers dip below the band of the towel, touching her shoulder blades and ribs. 

“I’m not a doctor, but I’d say apply some heat, and take it easy.”

Sylvie turns around, expecting Matt to drop his arm, but he doesn’t. She’s just there in the bracket of his arm, looking up at him. He leans down, presses his forehead to hers. It’s both exceeding comforting and terribly painful to be this close to him. That hasn’t changed. 

He murmurs her name. Sylvie doesn’t move, doesn’t even breath. Then slowly, so slowly that she could pull away, that she could step away if she wanted, he kisses her. The hand on her spine slides into her hair, his other hand finding her hip. Sylvie holds tight to her towel, managing to grab a fistful of his shirt. 

This is not anything like kissing him on her couch. This is comfort, and homecoming, and warmth. Sylvie feels alive in his arms. Each point of contact singing, pulsating with the connection. 

Tuesday barks outside the door, and they startle apart, suddenly very aware of their surroundings and where exactly they are. 

“Sylvie.” It’s the way Matt says her name that makes Sylvie blush. “You have got to stop scaring the shit out of me.”

Her fingers ghost along his jaw, Sylvie hums, feels the scratch of his almost shadow. This doesn’t change anything. It’s trite, and she’s so damn tired, but all the facts are the same. Worse now, maybe, because Gabby is in town, and Luke is a person in her life. Pulling back her hand, Sylvie detaches herself from Matt. She steps backwards, and he doesn’t speak. Doesn’t even reach for her. 

She cries in the shower. 

-

Sylvie ends things with Luke after shift. There’s not a ‘thing’, strictly speaking to end. No objects to collect from either persons place, no terse exchange of accusations or tears. It’s just him and her sitting in her couch having a real conversation. 

“I’m really sorry.”

Luke nods, eyes fixed on her mantle. “You did tell me. I’m not upset...” the sentence seems unfinished, Sylvie waits, fingers playing with her watch strap. “I wish we had better timing.”

Sylvie nods, but it’s not him that her wishes are about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll miss you, Luke!

**Author's Note:**

> If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it!


End file.
